Fools In Bed
by Tsadde
Summary: Dean and Cas are spend a weekend away at an expensive hotel. Before the end of their break, Dean wakes up in the middle of a storm and thinks of the relationship he has with the man sleeping beside him. Decidingly, he starts the morning by making sure Cas is catered to and sufficiently loved. Mild sexual implications. One-shot.


Fools in Bed

by Tsadde

Amelia and Sam give Dean a weekend at a high-end hotel, and he's skeptical but he doesn't pass up these sort of comforts. The hotel is so much cleaner, the beds so much softer, the commodities so much better than what the usual motels have to offer, so Dean's can't complain. Of course, Dean can guess why they _really_ paid for this unnecessary stay for Cas and himself when Amelia's got an empty guest room at her place- the end of the weekend marks the end of their break. Monday, they have decided, they set off for a major hunt on the other side of the country and Amelia will once again have to cling to the comfort of the delicate hope that they will return, alive and well and soon. When Dean thinks about how Sammy must be doing on this particularly rainy dawn, he laughs to himself. If he knows anything about his brother, Sam is doing plenty and doing just fine.

A loud roar of thunder almost completely wakes Castiel. Dean smiles from where he sits, beside Cas' lying form, knees bent under the sheets and arms slouched over them easily. The weekend was long and fun, and he hadn't meant to greet Monday before the sun had risen but rain is loud and violently pouring- it's worth watching. And when his mind has spent eons wandering, he feels Cas's arms sluggishly wrap around his stomach and Dean curves into the touch of warm arms around his bare torso. Things are so simple now, in this moment, and it's amazing to think they were so habitually restricted to each other eternities before. Now, Dean can recognize the distinct, clean smell of Cas' hair. He can describe how Cas bites down on his bottom lip when watching something suspenseful on television. He has committed to memory the way the bony curves of Cas' hipbones feel against his kneading and passing hands. And, in return, Cas swears he knows how many freckles Dean has on each check, and points out how Dean always licks his lips, without fail, when he first picks up a spoon before his meals. Through that weekend of goofing off- of eating together, relaxing, of sharing idle conversation, Dean begins to question. He questions how Castiel could ever find him so fascinating that he's captured his attention long enough for Cas to know little habits, like how he takes off a shirt or how the color in his eyes shine in the sun. It's too good, Dean thinks to himself on their bed, too good to be his. It is too good to share meals, teach him how to drive, share a couch or tug at the blankets when Cas pulls them away and turns in his sleep. It's too good, so insanely _good_ for the man who has nothing and the angel who tumbled? He doesn't try to come to any answers- somethings just surpass logic.

Maybe he's a bit more of a hopeless romantic than he'd like to admit, but there's something about the train of doubt and pattering of the rain against the glass windows that makes how much he loves Cas bubble up and shake him in that early morning hour. And Cas awakens, too aware of and too habituated to Dean to care about sleeping and ignore him. Dean murmurs sweet words of affection to Cas as he runs his fingers through the dark hair that retains the smell of their shampoo perfectly. The window is open, and they can make out the soft hum of the beginnings of morning traffic as hands travel and sighs are dispelled. And gradually, happily, Dean is leaning over Cas, now weaning off his former drowsiness into a different feeling different entirely, and he's cupping Castiel's face- he loves doing that, he likes the scruff and the bone structure and the way Cas leans up when Dean pulls him closer- blessing his skin with kisses and deep breaths in, the taking in of a familiar and beloved scent.

This morning is different from the anxious neediness of the night before. The sensation, the touches, the very ambiance in the air is completely telling of something else enitrely- because this isn't rushing and racing hearts and shallow breaths from the start, it's a slow and lingering process of adoration, and Dean is committed to worshipping the man lying down beside him, childlike in how Cas turns his head against the pillow and how his shoulders rise at the tickle of the train of kisses and soft breaths and the subtle brush of long eyelashes- oh, how that's always the _best_- And Dean is happy about the murmurs and the shivers and he's humming a song he's deemed theirs against Cas' collarbone with a grin. And while Cas beams at the lovely sound of that low and gentle tune, Dean is focused on how very much Cas deserves this and how much he wishes he could give him this- incredible nights and beautiful mornings in an apartment, surrounded by rain and climate and cars down below- for the rest of his life, if he could.

This rainy dawn is for Castiel. It's a morning for the making up of lost time, spent fighting and doubting and suppressing desires that Dean once didn't understand. Before the sun has completely risen, Dean has reminsiced on how much pain he had inflicted, how much hurting he had caused, and he dedicates this day to giving back in all the ways that he. So he devotes himself to Cas in these passing moments, who protests, who says he wants to convey his love to Dean, too- so like him to say that, to deny himself pleasure for the sake of the eldest Winchester, but to no avail. When Cas tries to rise, he gently presses him down, when Cas tries to argue, he does he must to make that deep, graven voice hitch and break and waver. How far did Dean go, that Castiel cannot accept unadulterated pleasure without a twinge of guilt? He tries not linger on it too long, on what the weak insistences between whimpers and moans imply about Cas' sense of deserving, because he's got things to change and a lover to completely undo. There will be verbal apologies for that soon enough.

When the sun has come up high and the day has long-since begun, Cas has been adored and exhausted and wonderfully spent. And Castiel almost frowns between catching his breath, lying on his side besides Dean, who's form rises and falls with every deep and needed breath. "You did not have to do that," Castiel murmurs, bringing Dean's slightly damp hand to his cheek, caressing his palms with his thumbs, "you should've let me take care of you, too."

Dean laughs, spent. He may have focused on tending to Cas, but he wasn't without his fair share of the fun, either. "I'm taken care of, don't you worry."

"I'm serious," Cas insists softly, looking up at him with those distinct, inquisitive blue eyes.

"So am I," Dean gently assures him, "so, stop it. It happened and it was great. Just enjoy it."

"I did enjoy it. But I don't want to be the only one getting all the attention next time- next time, I want to tend to you, I want to make you feel good."

"Cas, I did all that work and you're _already_ thinking about next time?" Dean half-jokes, surprised.

"That is not what I meant," Cas rolls his eyes. He turns over and lies flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling of windows overhead that look up to the sky. Dean can make out the growing, guilty smile on his face from the corner of his eye. "Though I do admit the thought _may_ have crossed my mind."

Dean laughs. Even as he continues insisting that the endless attention that Dean gave him wasn't necessary or fair, he knows Castiel appreciated his work. He knows beyond a doubt that this partner is happy by the glimmer in his eyes, by the smile that shines through even when he tries to frown at Dean's jokes. The Winchester family is genetically predisposed to self-doubt, and Castiel is certainly no exception. So, Dean rests his head on Cas' shoulder and assures him it was worth it, that each moment was just as enjoyable for him as it was for the angel, and that he'd do it all over again if he could, without a second's thoughts. And they bask a while, in the splotches of sunlight that peak through the overhead clouds and transcend the window glass, sharing laughter and smiles and tangled sheets. Dean learns two things that morning- that he will always take up Sam and Amelia on the offer to take a break at a hotel and that losing yourself in loving someone else is quite possibly the best way to start a Monday.

* * *

A/N: Listen to the song, "Fool in Bed" by James Alan. Great song and the inspiration to this piece.


End file.
